


Father Alone

by LittlestMedic



Category: Love & Legends (Visual Novel), Lovestruck - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Blood, Complications in pregnancy, F/M, Sad Reiner is Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 11:10:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14975924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittlestMedic/pseuds/LittlestMedic
Summary: From a prompt received on tumblr; "what if MC died giving birth? But the baby survives. Could you please write that?"





	Father Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt courtesy of an anonymous tumblr user

His son is only a few minutes old. He almost wasn’t allowed those minutes.

“We are sorry, Lord Wolfson,” the midwife says. The others behind her look pale, their robes covered in blood and some of their faces streaked with tears and sweat. “So, so sorry. We tried as hard as we could.”

He holds his son carefully. The newborn is not crying, and his breathing is soft and shallow. Slowly, one of the midwives approaches.

“Lord Wolfson… Your son…”

He lets her take his son from him, and hand the baby to the wet nurse. The room is uncomfortably silent.

“Can I see her?”  
Reiner is both surprised and not by how broken his voice is. Surprised, for his face is dry and devoid of tears, and not, for the love of his life is lying beyond the half-cracked door to their chamber, dead. He doesn’t know what to expect, especially when the chief midwife tries to stop him, especially when _Solaire_ tries to hold him back, her voice urgent.

“No, Lord Wolfson, no, Reiner, _you do not want to see—_ ”

But he enters.

She is a shell, and that is when the tears come. When he sees her deathly pale face, the brown hair greasy and stuck to her head, and the **blood** , gods, the blood…

“Oh, my love…”   
His voice is choked. He takes one shuddering step towards the bed, and another, and then his knees give out and he collapses onto his knees at her side, oblivious to the pain of his knees meeting the flagstones. He fumbles for her hand, clutches at it. His magic reaches out, searching, looking for anything it can grasp onto and heal, even if it means he will perish in her stead.

Nothing. The spark of her soul is gone, and in its place is a void. He sobs, burying his head into the blood soaked sheets and howling out his grief. Somewhere off in the distance, a few rooms over, he hears the broken wails of the retainers. They are family, after all.   
And beneath it all, the weak peal of a baby, which grows stronger after a time, until no other sound registers with Reiner but that of his own cries and those of his son.

\---

He sits with her body for longer than he can count, pleading with the gods to return her.

But they won’t. They didn’t return his father, or his mother, or his brother. For all intents and purposes, they didn’t care for the grief of mortals. The retainers come through, as do Ryland and Solaire, and they beg, and _plead_ for him to let her go. His son needs him. The baby doesn’t even have a name yet.

It is when Ishara enters, at her sons behest, does he listen.

“Reiner.” Her voice is soft but stern. “Do you truly think she would enjoy seeing you like this?”  
She rests one hand on his shoulder, and then moves it to stroke at his hair, softly, comfortingly.  
“You have a child now. Be strong for him, if not for yourself.”

Be strong for him, she says. Reiner lifts his head. His face is drawn, aged years in but a day. They must prepare her for burial, she reminds him gently. They cannot whilst he is there. To linger any longer would be to risk tarnishing his memories of her further.

So he gets up, and walks, with heavy heart and heavy footsteps, to the door, and away from the love of his life. When he closes the heavy wood of their chamber, he knows he is closing the door to the best times of his life.

\---

Alfric Wolfson is a remarkably healthy baby for one whose birth came accompanied with such trauma and heartbreak. He is six months old, and he is the apple of the eye of all those who pass through Lord Reiners castle. Blue eyed and brown haired, he looks little like his father. He does, however, look like his mother.

Reiner’s heart hurts whenever he sees her smile in his sons face.

The late Lady Wolfson has a grave outside the castle. It is marked with a statue of her, head bowed and face peaceful. Every last day of the month, Reiner takes his son to see her. He talks to her, filling her in on their sons progress.

“Alfric smiled for the first time today, my love. He looks like you.”

“Ishara was the first to make our son laugh. Iseul hopes the skill runs in the family.”

“Alfric recognises my voice. And Solaire’s too. Ryland hopes he is next to be recognised.”

Other times, Reiner stands there, alone. He stares at her face, and he remembers, and grieves, and hopes that wherever she is, she is happy.

\---

“And this will help him?”

“Of course, Lord Wolfson,” the healer replies, “All babies must cut their teeth eventually, and it is perfectly normal they are distressed. It is an uncomfortable process, after all.”

Reiner doesn’t care what’s _normal_ —he just wants to help his child. His son is in pain, and wailing, and no amount of soft singing or rocking helps. And he is scared, of course, scared that his boy will take a turn for the worst, that the midwives warnings of sickly babes would come true.

“Thank you,” Reiner tells her, not relieved quite just yet. He will not be relieved until his son is no longer wailing, and once again sleeping soundly.

\---

“Papa!”

Alfric’s first word is papa, and it is the _only_ word he seems to say, until he begins to pepper his vocabulary with “Gust!”, the closest he can get to August. This is much to the others chagrin, but August takes it in his stride.  
Reiner imagines that as someone with so many siblings, August has seen his fair share of infants, and knows all the tricks to getting them to say his name before all others.

One day, Reiner walks into the nursery with Alfric’s lunch (mashed up peas seemed to have become Solaire’s newest speciality, as the infant seemed to love them), and sees Iseul, bent over the crib.

“Isssssseul. Go on, Alfric. Isssss-eul. You can do it.”

“Papaaaaa. Peas!”

Iseul turns, a good-natured scowl on his face.  
“Clearly, I know when I’m outmatched.” He shrugs, moving so Reiner can pick up his son. The elf watches, something unreadable on his face before he blurts out, “She would be proud, you know. So unbelievably proud.”

Reiner turns, looking at him furtively, before nodding. His face is a sad smile, the pain still raw and the ache still there.  
“I know,” he says, facing back to Alfric in his dinner chair, “I know.”

\---

Reiner is sitting in his study, brow creased with concentration, when the door bursts open. It is Ryland and Altea, out of breath and beaming. At first, Reiner is alarmed—an emergency? Why else would they burst in without knocking?  
And then Altea bursts into rapid, excited speech.

“Reiner, my lord, dearest friend, come quick! Quick quick quick! Solaire—and Alfric!! Steps! Walking!”  
She falls back into simple one word sentences, gesticulating wildly, Ryland nodding at her side—and Reiner waits not a second more, rushing past them with all the urgency in the world.

When he reaches the nursery, and reaches Solaire, he sees two things all at once—one, Solaire is near weeping with joy, and two, Alfric is standing, and _walking_ , one shaky little foot in front of the other, pushing away from the toybox he had used to pull himself up.

One tiny part of Reiner wishes he had seen his sons _very_ first steps, and not the ones after Altea and Ryland had excitedly hurried to tell him the good news—but he let it wish unheeded. Every other part of him burst at the seams with pride.

It has been exactly twelve months since she passed. A year. The pain is still there— and it always will be—but he has his son.

And his son, the little boy who has his mothers smile, will always have him.

**Author's Note:**

> I take other Lovestruck fic requests at my tumblr, @littlestmedic


End file.
